Monday, 11 June 2012

MEGAN ABBOTT'S END OF EVERYTHING

It might become a
challenge to discuss Megan Abbott's books without reference to the
words 'fever' or 'dream'. Her first four novels approached the world
of noir from the inside, or perhaps, in a genre where the
protagonists are usually men, often superficially attractive
(qualities we're supposed to judge in women) but possessed of
one-track minds and/or half track brains, we might better say from
the other side. This reclaiming of the world of noir has been, for
me, the most interesting and original work done in the crime field in
this new millennium.

Although her fifth
novel, 2011's, The End Of Everything, is, on the face of it, a novel
about adolescence, whose 'crime' sits mostly offstage while Abbott
provides a stunning take on the power of sexuality, and the even
greater power of repression. When you think about it, it makes
perfect sense, because that is at heart what noir is all about at
heart—the feeling a child has, of being caught in the grip of a
force he or she cannot control, a primal urge beyond understanding
or coping-- isn't that exactly what noir protagonists wind up
feeling? That they are adults merely intensifies the predicament,
intensifies the temperature of the fever dream in which it takes
place.It's why the best noir is filmed in shadow, in fog, in haze, in darkness, where no one can see what is coming.

Lizzie and Evie are
best friends, with Evie's older sister Dusty their glamorous role
model, and Evie's father, Mr. Verver, as the perfect dad, at least in
the mind of Lizzie, who's being raised by her single mother, who herself has just begun an affair. Then, Evie
disappears, and it soon appears she has been kidnapped by the
Verver's insurance agent, Mr. Shaw. But nothing, it seems, is the way
it seems.

Although the setting
appears to be the 1980s, but the story has the feel of the 1950s—so
much so that it reminded me of Thomas H. Cook at his best, the same sort
of emotional undercurrent which reveals itself in its own repression,
that same sort of quiet build-up which goes beyond noir, but still
stirs the perfect surface in search of the imperfections underneath.
Abbott, through Lizzie's teenaged eyes, builds an undercurrent of
sexual malice which permeates virtually every scene, boiling just
beneath the surface. And Lizzie's perceptions are modern, the only
really modern thing in the story—she is the author's stand-in,
seeing a Fifties noirish reality beneath that 80s world. The reader
feels like a youngster who's stumbled across their parents' cache of
steam-covered 50s paperbacks. So Mr. Verver, the seemingly perfect
father, more and more takes on the appearance of a predator, an
abuser, not so different perhaps from Mr. Shaw.

Except that Mr. Shaw is
also not quite what he appears to be, and Evie's kidnapping is not
quite that either. Without wanting to spoil the story, Abbott has also written a look back at Lolita, again, as I
suggested at the start, told from the other side. After all, what is
Nabokov's novel, if not a look at 1950s masculinity, and its fatal
attraction to the unspoiled, perfect, uncomplaining, unthreatening
femininity of the 50s teen, just starting to be sexualised in the
post-war modern world.

It's a brilliant book,
whose tone never falters, whose tension is wrenched tighter and
tighter with each page, and whose vision is resolutely noirish. Megan
Abbott's fiction remains fascinating in its obsessions, and in The
End Of Everything, she takes them out of their classic setting, and
proves she can make them work on a wider, more surprising canvas.

The End Of Everything by Megan AbbottPicador, £7.99, ISBN 9780330518314

NFL WEEKLY COVERAGE

You can follow me and the NFL with my Friday Morning Tight End column at Patreon. Weekly during the season, giving perspective on the week's action on and off the field and picking every game. Follow this link to find out how to become a patron and join up.